


Just Another Afternoon

by Setcheti



Series: Ghostbusters: The M7 Version [2]
Category: Ghostbusters - All Media Types, The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, September 11 Attacks, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setcheti/pseuds/Setcheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Horrible things may happen, but life goes on - because that's what life is supposed to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This story arc concerns the aftermath of 9-11, and has some descriptions of what certain people were doing immediately after during the rescue efforts as well as allusions to those who were not able to be rescued. If any of that would be a trigger for you, you probably don't want to read this.

It was just one of those afternoons, the kind where there really isn’t anything to do except for the things you don’t want to.  Chris finally pried himself out of his office after three hours of staring at the paperwork instead of doing it and went to check on the rest of his team.  A note that fell off his door when he opened it said Nathan would again be gone for the day and detailed which hospital he’d be at and what shift he was covering – a double, Chris noticed with a sigh and a grimace, he really needed to have another talk with Jackson about what happens to the candle when you burn it at both ends for too long. 

Thank goodness he’d been able to get the message across to most of the rest of the men a lot earlier.  The first hurdle had been convincing everyone that it was all right for one of them to want to stay with Ezra at the firehouse while the others used their PKE meters at the disaster site to help locate survivors; he’d told them in no uncertain terms that taking care of their own was just as important as doing their part to help everyone else.  So they’d set up a rotating schedule that ended up saving everyone’s sanity, giving each man some much-needed time basically alone and away from the carnage at the Trade Center for a little while each day. 

The other hurdle had been JD’s birthday, which just happened to fall on September thirtieth.  JD had been prepared to let the day slide by unremarked under the circumstances, but Buck had overheard Nathan telling the young mathematician he was ‘doing the right thing’ and that it ‘wouldn’t be right’ to celebrate and anger had shocked him out of his own black fog of despair.  Ezra had been able to tell them it was a form of survivor guilt and had even managed to talk with JD about it, and Chris, Buck and Vin had planned the party and made sure there was enough chocolate cake for everyone to have seconds – or, in Vin’s case, fourths.  Chris privately thought that next time they should probably get two cakes, one just for Vin and another for everyone else. 

The party had restored some normalcy to life at the firehouse, which for weeks had been no more than a pit stop where the Ghostbusters repaired equipment, showered, and occasionally slept.  Laundry and chores started to get done again, meals once again became communal affairs instead of desperate raids on the kitchen, and the television was being turned on to provide entertainment rather than information.  Their old habits and routines had slowly begun to reestablish themselves as they started to take calls again, and now there was just the odd ripple that still needed to be smoothed out. 

The ground floor of the firehouse was empty and quiet.  A note on Nettie’s desk said she’d left early for a dental appointment and the machine was catching their calls – or would be if they’d gotten any calls, which they hadn’t.  Her log book said that Buck was sitting in on a meeting with the city’s civic engineers, Josiah had gone book hunting and JD was over at Columbia visiting with one of his old professors.  A memo in Chris’s inbox said that the hospital had called regarding Nathan’s contract with Ghostbusters, Inc. and Nettie had told them Chris would get back to them in a day or two.  Chris scowled at the memo and then crumpled it in his fist; apparently he and Nathan needed to have a talk about more than just working too hard. 

Ideally the person to disassemble Nathan’s own manifestation of survivor guilt would have been Ezra, but the two men hadn’t been getting along very well lately because of that very problem; the biochemist had been subtly, almost subconsciously ostracizing the psychologist because he ‘hadn’t been there,’ or ‘hadn’t been involved’.  Ezra was still carrying his own load of unearned guilt over being unable to help when he felt like he was needed most, and although he hid it well Chris knew that Nathan’s seemingly innocuous comments were making a bad situation worse.  And the last thing anyone wanted to do right now was to make things worse for Ezra than they already were. 

Dropping the crumpled ball of paper back into the box, Chris ventured upstairs to the third floor to check on the only other two members of his team still in residence.  Vin would most likely be in the family room taking advantage of the quiet time to catch up on the classes he was taking toward his parapsychology degree, and Ezra should be stretched out on the couch alternately dozing off and helping Vin study.  The idea of parking himself in his recliner with some cocoa and joining in the repartee between the two younger men sounded to Chris like a highly acceptable way to waste the rest of the afternoon. 

But the family room was empty.  Ezra had probably decided to sleep upstairs in the bunkroom where it was warmer, Chris decided, and Vin was off somewhere reveling in solitude.  He’d just check in on Ezra and then come back down to his recliner to enjoy a little solitude of his own, maybe even read a book or catch up on the scientific journals he hadn’t had time for lately. 

But the bunkroom was empty too.  Chris touched Ezra’s neatly made bed and felt how cold it was; an answering chill ran down his spine.  He could still hear the psychologist’s agonized scream that morning more than a month ago when the cacophony of thousands of frightened, angry, newly-released souls had poured into his mind in an unblockable torrent, still feel the hard impact with the wooden floor as he’d tackled the smaller man and pinned him down when he tried to escape to the roof with every intention of throwing himself off to end the torment, escape the pain… 

Oh God, the roof. 

Chris was on the last flight of stairs before he even realized he’d left the bunkroom.  It had been four days before they’d even been able to back down Ezra’s medication enough to let him do anything but drift in a drugged stupor, and once he was lucid again he’d cried uncontrollably and been violently sick every time another part of the wreckage collapsed.  But finally, horribly, there were no more souls to be released from the unforgiving rubble and the psychologist had slowly started to recover. 

Getting life back to anything near normal for the rest of them had been just a matter of putting the aftermath of the attack in perspective, setting aside time not to think about it, setting aside more time to talk it out and reestablishing as much of their former routine as they could; for their psychologist, though, it was an unending battle against the constant howling presence of the seething mass of spirits that the others could detect on their instruments but that he was cursed with being able to see and hear.  And there was no way to predict how long it would take for the spirits to disperse, or if they ever would.  

Chris’s hand shook as he grasped the handle of the door that led to the open roof five stories above the cracked sidewalk and rutted street.  What if Ezra hadn’t been able to face that?  What if the roof was now empty too? 

Taking a deep breath, he eased open the door and stepped through, closing it just as silently behind him.  If the psychologist were out here, alone and considering the unthinkable, the last thing Larabee wanted to do was startle him and cause the very tragedy he’d already prevented once.  He practically sagged against the door with relief when the sound of _two_ voices in quiet conversation reached his ears, then anger briefly flooded through him that the two of them had scared him like that, and anger was closely followed by embarrassment; if he’d thought it through instead of panicking he might not have scared himself half to death imagining the worst.  Standish had practically put up a flag and a plaque claiming the roof as his territory after everyone had moved into the firehouse and Tanner just liked to be out in the open, they’d probably both just come up to get some fresh air. 

He rounded the corner and saw the two men sitting shoulder to shoulder, closer to the eroded edge on the west side of the roof than Chris would ever go himself.  Ezra had one hand wrapped around Vin’s arm in a loose grip and with his other hand he was pointing at something Chris couldn’t see.  Moving closer, the physicist’s eyebrows almost met his hairline when he heard what they were talking about – apparently his fresh air theory had been wrong too.  “Yeah, I can see which one you mean,” Vin was saying, pointing himself.  “But how do you know…” 

“Because I’ve heard ones that look like that before, so I know how they got that way.  Now that one over there, on the other hand…” 

“You mean the one that looks like a sheep?” 

Ezra squinted and frowned.  “Now that you mention it, at this distance I do see the resemblance.  It doesn’t look like that up close, though; that’s one that was crushed.” 

“I don’t want to see it up close then,” Vin told him, shaking his head.  “What about the red one, that fast one over there?” 

“That one wasn’t a person - at least, not recently.”  Ezra let go of his arm.  “I think that’s enough for today, don’t you?” 

“Getting tired?”  The psychologist nodded.  “Yep, time to quit then.  Thanks for showin’ me, though; I understand better now.”  Vin caught sight of Chris then and grinned.  “Hey, Cowboy, what brings you up here?” 

“Lookin’ for the two of you.”   Chris walked over to them and awkwardly sat down beside Ezra, feeling a flash of guilt for putting his two friends between himself and the five story drop to the concrete.  “Couldn’t take it inside anymore, huh?” 

“Mr. Tanner wished to see what I see on a daily basis,” Ezra told him quietly.  “You gentlemen normally only get to see non-physical entities when they are somehow engaged with us, I saw no harm in agreeing to his request.”  He frowned a little and then raised a slightly shaking hand and stopped it just short of touching Chris’s arm.  “I can show you as well, if you like.” 

The offer was carefully casual, but Chris knew that Ezra must be almost desperate to share his burden, to ‘prove’ the validity of what had happened to him to the rest of them.  And to tell the truth, Chris had wondered once or twice how they were going to help the psychologist when none of them could relate to what he was going through; he hadn’t realized that Ezra could share a piece of the experience with them this way.  He nodded agreement and braced himself slightly, but to his disappointment when the other man’s slender hand wrapped around his bicep he felt nothing at all.  “No, pard,” Vin said, correctly reading his expression.  “Ya gotta look over _there_.” 

Larabee followed the gesture Vin made with his eyes…and his mouth dropped open; the air above the ruins was filled with a veritable mushroom cloud of spirits, all shapes and sizes, and it looked like it was absolutely boiling.  Here and there one would break away from the seething mass and go streaking off to parts unknown, and when one of Vin’s sheeplike ones darted in their direction he pulled out of Ezra’s loose grip with a gasp.  “They’re leaving the mass, where do they go?” 

The psychologist sighed and shook his head.  “Everywhere.  I’ve seen some few of them actually disperse from this plane of existence, but the majority that break away are simply relocating, perhaps homing in on a familiar person or place to haunt or merely seeking to strike out on their own.  Either way I believe we need not fear unemployment in our lifetimes, as many of these immigrants from the site of the disaster will no doubt be highly unwelcome wherever they end up.” 

“That’s ten times worse than what I’d pictured from the instrument readings,” Chris muttered unhappily.  “I wonder if there’s any way we can speed things up…” 

“I wouldn’t advise it,” Ezra cautioned.  He rubbed his eyes and sighed again.  “You must remember, the eyes of the world are upon our violated city at the moment; it would be very bad publicity for us to show up with proton packs blazing to perpetrate some sort of mass capture of the martyred dead.” 

“He’s right,” Vin agreed.  “I don’t like the idea of sitting around and waiting for _that_ to do something,” he gestured to the now invisible cloud, “but no matter how we try to mess with it it’s going to be a shot in the dark and we’re  gonna look real bad.  We’ll just have to keep an eye on it and deal with the ghosts that break off from the group one at a time.” 

“Just keep it business as usual,” Chris said, nodding.  “Well, I don’t like it, but I think you’re both probably right.  We’ll tell everyone else tonight after dinner – got some other things to talk out too, we might as well get it all out of the way at once.” 

“Ah, I assume you’re referring to Dr. Jackson’s possible defection from our ranks?” Ezra asked.  At Chris’s raised eyebrow he shrugged.  “I overheard him talking to Mr. Sanchez about it, apparently the hospital has offered him a supervisory position in their main laboratory.” 

Vin  looked worried.  “You think he’ll take it?” 

Ezra shrugged again.  “I believe those trying to recruit him away from us are playing off his sense of social responsibility and using his overactive conscience against him.  It is quite possible he will martyr himself to the cause, so to speak, if he is convinced enough that he could be of more help there than here.” 

Chris swore softly.  “Yep, that would be the way to get to Nathan, all right – just convince him he isn’t doing enough to help.  Think you could talk some sense into him, Ezra?” 

The response was immediate and negative.  “No, he won’t listen to me,” the psychologist told him, dropping his eyes.  “I did make the mistake of trying to discuss it with him once already, and the result was…unpleasant.  He might be more open to the rest of you because of your shared experience.” 

“That’s something else we have to talk about,” Chris growled; Vin looked angry as well.  “That bullshit is going to stop.” 

Ezra didn’t look at them.  “It is a normal psychological reaction to the situation…” 

“I don’t care,” Chris interrupted.  “Nathan’s a big boy, he can control his ‘psychological reaction to the situation’ if he makes the effort – and if he won’t, the hospital can have him.”  That snapped Ezra’s head up.  “I won’t see what we’ve worked so hard to build here ripped apart because he’s wallowing in his emotional reaction instead of using his reason to work past it.”  He squeezed the psychologist’s shoulder reassuringly.  “He should be taking lessons from you, Ezra, not putting you down.” 

The look of astonishment on Ezra’s face was almost comical, and Vin patted him on the back.  “Pard, you have to know we’re all damn proud of you; it’s only just over a month since it happened and you’re doin’ better than anyone could have expected.  Hell, you’ll be back to a hundred percent by Christmas at this rate!” 

“I hope so,” Ezra murmured.  He was back to rubbing his eyes again, and he shivered slightly as a brisk October breeze whistled across the rooftop.  “But right now I’m ashamed to say that all I want to do is go back downstairs and monopolize the couch for the remainder of the afternoon.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Vin agreed, stretching.  “Got some work to catch up on now that classes are back in session, I should probably get some of it done while it’s quiet.” 

“I’ll make the cocoa,” Chris said, climbing back to his feet.  Vin and Ezra stood up as well, and when the psychologist swayed slightly both men reached out to help him regain his balance…and as soon as their hands touched his a tidal wave of crying, shrieking and moaning assaulted both of them. 

Chris vaguely heard Vin yell, but the only thing he could think about was the horrible noise invading his mind.  He staggered, and as soon as the connection was broken the sound cut off; the echo of it, however, remained in his head like a raw wound.  So much pain, so much anger… 

Hands grabbed at him and a voice cried out his name, and then he impacted with the rough surface of the roof in a tangle with a smaller body.  “Oh lord, Chris, I’m sorry,” he heard Ezra’s voice whisper brokenly.  “How could I be such a fool! When you both took my hands at once, I didn’t think…” 

Chris opened his eyes.  Vin was leaning against the wall with a shell-shocked look on his face and Ezra was trying to untangle himself.  “ _That’s_ what you hear?” he demanded breathlessly, glaring at the psychologist. 

Ezra flinched and nodded.  “God damn,” Vin breathed.  “N-nice save, by the way, Ez – thought ol’ Chris was over the edge for sure.” 

The physicist sat up and rubbed his shoulder, not looking toward the edge that was still too close.  “I won’t complain about the landing, then – better up here than down there.  Now why the hell didn’t you tell us it was like that, Standish?!” 

“I-I did.”  Ezra was drawing away from him.  “I…told you I could hear them.” 

“Don’t think you told us enough, pard,” Vin said softly, giving Chris a warning look.  “That there noise is enough to drive a man out of his mind; forget what I said about bein’ proud, I’m damn well in awe.” 

“That goes double for me,” Chris agreed.  “I’m amazed you aren’t quivering in a corner at Bellevue, I probably would be.”  He scowled.  “There has _got_ to be a way to block that noise out.   Dammit, we’re the Ghostbusters!  If we can catch a ghost we should be able to shut one up.”  He reined in his anger again before it could get away from him.  “Can you do that again, Ezra?  Does it hurt you to…share with us like that?” 

“It is…draining after a time, but no, it doesn’t hurt.”  The psychologist seemed startled by the question.  “You can’t mean you wish to experience it _again_?” 

Chris’s expression hardened with determination.  “If I have to, I will – whatever it takes to find a solution other than you just ‘getting used to it’.  I don’t see how anyone could get used to that!  But what I want first is for you to repeat what we just did with everyone else on the team, I want everyone to know what’s going on.  Would they be able to see that cloud after dark?” 

Ezra nodded shakily.  “It is actually rather more visible at night due to the glow.  But…everyone?”

“ _Especially_ Nathan,” Chris told him.  “Won’t have to have a talk with him after that, I don’t think.” 

“Yep, I’d say hearin’ that would bring him right around,” Vin agreed.  “And once Buck knows what we’re up against he’ll have a better idea how to make somethin’ that will fix it.” 

“There goes the lab budget again.”  Chris climbed back to his feet.  “Although I’d say from the looks of that cloud business will probably be too good soon.  Now why don’t we all get inside where it’s warm so I can get back to my lazy afternoon?” 

Vin  laughed and pulled Ezra up by the arm, steadying him.  “Hey, I’d say this is already a pretty laid-back afternoon in the life of a Ghostbuster, wouldn’t you?” 

 Chris cocked an eyebrow at him in disbelief – and then he laughed too.  Even Ezra managed a smile.  “I guess so, now that you mention it.  C’mon you two, let’s go get that cocoa.” 

“Extra marshmallows for me,” Vin requested.  “And do we still have any of those cookies left…” 

_Yep_ , Chris thought, grinning and shaking his head as he preceded the two younger men down the stairs.  _It’s just another afternoon at Ghostbusters, Inc_.


End file.
